Stalking Face
by JPsmiles
Summary: A nemesis from the past comes back for a little revenge.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Stalking Face

Rating: PG 13

Summary: A nemesis from the past comes back for a little revenge.

Warning: Spoilers for The Bell's of St. Mary's. And perhaps a bit corny and unrealistic at times…just the way I like it! :)

_"Okay boys...you know what I want you to do. I want them and I want them bad...especially Smith! _

_He made a fool of me...and nobody makes a fool of me and gets away with it! But first, I get to have a little fun! _

_Let's see how smug Smith is when I start messing with his pretty boy Lieutenant! Let the games begin..."_

"Murdock, would you stop fussing at me already?" Face asked swatting his friend's hand away. He adjusted the bag of frozen peas he was holding to the back of his head. "I told you I was fine."

"If you're so fine, Facey, than why are you looking so green? In addition to black and blue…I might add."

"Look, can we just drop it?" Face wanted to forget the whole embarrassing incident.

"How can we drop it, when you haven't even told me what happened yet?"

And don't go telling Hannibal or B.A. …"

"Don't tell Hannibal or B.A. what?" Hannibal asked walking into the room followed by B.A.

"Doesn't anybody knock anymore these days?" Face said a little too loud for his own aching head.

"The door was unlocked...don't dodge the question, Face." Taking a closer look at the battered Face lying on the couch he asked, "What the hell happened to you?"

"It's nothing really...it looks worse than it is." Face didn't know who he was trying to convince more...them or himself. Truth was, he was feeling pretty shaken up over the whole ordeal,

"If it's nothin' Faceman, than why you holdin' part of tonight's dinner on you head?" B.A. asked pointing at the bag of peas.

"I found him out cold next to the Vette about an hour ago," Murdock offered.

It was becoming obvious that they were going to have to pull the truth out of Face. Their rope of choice: silence.

The three men starred at Face until he finally admitted, "I was mugged…got me from behind. Before I even had a chance to react they had me on the ground."

His friends were still staring at him, waiting for more detail. Face tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but winced as the movement jarred his bruised abdomen. He looked down, avoiding their eyes.

"I didn't stand a chance; there were four of them. Unless, of course, there always is the possibility that I could have been seeing double from the knock to my head," he tried to joke.

"Four against one…ain't exactly fair."

Face smiled weakly at B.A. It wasn't every day that the big guy was on his side and he appreciated the support.

Hannibal could see that Face was trying to hide his discomfort. "Where else are you hurt?"

"Nothing broken…just bruised," he paused, "especially my ego."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Muchacho. It could have happened to any one of us."

"I know, Murdock. But why is it always me?" He groaned when a thought struck him. "They got my wallet!"

"So what? It ain't like any of your ID is legit anyway," B.A. snickered.

"I know...but I just met this beautiful blonde, Rhonda...her number was in that wallet!"

Murdock rolled his eyes. "And for Face _that_ insult is way worse than any injury!"

'He can't be feeling too badly, if that's what He's worried about,' Hannibal thought. "Why don't you just lay back and relax a while, kid?" He started walking toward the kitchen. "I'll go see if I can find another vegetable for your head...maybe some frozen corn?" 

_"Well done, boys!  
>Phase one is complete...on to phase two we go! <em>

_And I'm just getting started...the best is yet to come!_


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Stalking Face

Rating: PG 13

Summary: A nemesis from the past comes back for a little revenge.

Warning: Spoilers for The Bell's of St. Mary's. And perhaps a bit corny and unrealistic at times…just the way I like it! :)

Face drove down the highway feeling better than he had in days. The bruises from the previous week's mugging were almost gone, as were the feelings of violation that he had been carrying around. He suspected Rhonda had something to do with that. Face was pleasantly surprised to run into the stunner again earlier in the day and they decided to have lunch together. By the end of the meal, he was able to put her number into his new wallet. This time he vowed not to lose it.

Face pulled into the parking spot and started to get out of his car when the dizziness first hit him. He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. The feeling passed as quickly as it arrived.

'That was weird,' he thought. 'Must be an after effect from that blow to my head.' Face had suffered enough concussions over the years to know that it could take a while to feel quite right again.

That, or maybe the champagne he had with Rhonda had hit him; he always was a light weight. 'But it was only one glass,' he thought, 'even I'm not that pathetic."

Realizing that he was close to being late for the meeting, he dismissed the dizziness a as fluke and continued on toward Hannibal's apartment.

They were busy hashing out the details for their next mission when Face began to feel nauseous. Unsure if he was actually going to be sick or not, he decided to play it safe and headed for the bathroom.

He had his hand on the doorknob when he was he was hit by a sharp stomach pain. Face gasped and doubled over. He fell to his knees and crawled over to the toilet...and the eruption began.

In the other room, Hannibal, Murdock and B.A. sat waiting for Face to return.

"Faceman sure been gone a long time," B.A. grumbled. "probably primpin' in front of the mirror."

"Even Face isn't vain enough to be gone this long," Hannibal smiled in an attempt to conceal his worry.

"I'll go check on him," Murdock volunteered.

As he made his way down the hall he could hear Face retching. He pushed the ajar door open slightly and saw his friend clutching onto the side of the bowl. Unsure what to do and not wanting to invade the ill man's privacy, he let the door close and hung back. When there was nothing but silence coming from inside, he knocked lightly.

"Face...you okay?" Murdock asked, knowing full well that he wasn't. When he didn't get a reply, he pushed the door open again to find Face propped up against the wall. He was shaking and sweating and breathing hard.

Murdock knelt down next to Face and said soothingly, "Hey buddy, you think you're okay to make it to a bed."

Face nodded but made no attempt to get up; he was far too weak to even move.

Murdock doubted that Face would be able to walk, even with his help. "Just stay put...I'm going to go get B.A."

Normally Face would have protested that idea; he hated it when B.A. had to carry him. But now he felt too sick too even care.

"Well, we might as well start calling him 'Ralph'…because that's what he's been doing," Murdock informed the guys as he reentered the living room.

"Ralph?" B.A. asked looking confused.

"Yes, ralph…you know...like puke." Murdock suddenly looked very serious. "He's real sick. Man, how does somebody get so sick so fast?"

Hannibal put out his cigar and rolled up his sleeves. "I don't know, Captain. But if there is one thing that I have learned from Face over the years, is to expect the unexpected."

And Hannibal surely did not expect to see what he saw upon entering the bathroom.

"Jesus, kid," he said, kneeling down next to Face who was now lying on the floor.

He had his hands wrapped around his midsection and was moaning and writhing in pain. All of a sudden Face turned white and lurched for the toilet again. Hannibal held the younger man's shoulders while he did his business and then supported him as he collapsed backwards.

"Thanks," Face gasped. "Sorry."

"S'okay, kid. Just take it easy," Hannibal said gently. "B.A., go get some towels. Murdock, get a pillow. I think Face may be best off staying right where he is for a bit."

"Right. Let's go fool!" B.A. said grabbing Murdock's arm and pulling him out of the room.

Face's head rested on Hannibal's lap. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. "I don't feel so good," he moaned.

"I know you don't, but I'm sure you'll be feeling better soon," Hannibal soothed. He just prayed that he was right.

Hannibal's prayers were answered, but not until several hours later. The guys took turns holding Face as he was violently sick through the course of the night. Finally, he passed out from exhaustion and B.A. was able to move him to a bed.

Face woke up to Murdock fixing the sheets around him. Still disoriented, he swatted his hands away and mumbled, "Go away."

"We really have to stop meeting like this, Face-guy," Murdock teased.

"Sorry Murdock…I'm just not awake yet." The way he was feeling, he wasn't sure that being awake was such a good idea anyway. Sleep sounded much more appealing.

"How're you feeling, Face?" Hannibal asked from across the room.

"Like my insides have been ripped out," he answered honestly.

Hannibal frowned. If Face wasn't putting up a front, that meant he really was feeling bad. "You're not too far off the mark…food poisoning," he stated.

"Huh?" Face questioned.

"I spoke with Maggie, and she said that you probably had a case of severe food poisoning."

"Yeah man…you was up ralphing all night," B.A. said and then regretted it as soon a Murdock gave him a thumbs up. "Aw man…I should know better than ta encourage you fool!"

"Ralphing?" Face questioned again. "I must still be delirious, because you guys aren't making much sense."

"Maggie said to make sure you drink lots of fluids to replace what you…um…lost." Hannibal cleared his throat and tried to clear his mind of the previous night. "But, I do have some news that'll cheer you up Face…once you are feeling better we are all going to hit the road."

Murdock started to jump up and down. "Can we go to Disneyland? Can we, can we, can we?" He looked so childlike and excited that even B.A. had to smile at his antics.

"Sorry Murdock…but we might encounter some mice where we are going too. It's time we got a little training session in…dontcha' think?"

Hannibal and Murdock answered with a definite "no" while Face just groaned, "I think I feel a relapse coming on."

_"I'd say things are progressing nicely! Yes, nicely indeed!  
>Phase 3...a personal favorite of mine! <em>

_Let's see if I can get them to see red...shall we?_


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Stalking Face

Rating: PG 13

Summary: A nemesis from the past comes back for a little revenge.

Warning: Spoilers for The Bell's of St. Mary's. And perhaps a bit corny and unrealistic at times…just the way I like it! :)

It had taken Face much longer to regain his strength than he had expected. Sometimes internal attacks could be much harder to recover from than external ones. Since the mugging and the food poisoning, he had been feeling like a liability to the team. As a result, he was especially determined to impress Hannibal during the training...even if he still wasn't feeling his best.

Face started out strong and estimated that he was ahead of the others by at least a good 10 minutes.

B.A. was strong, but endurance wasn't his specialty. But for a guy carrying 40 plus pounds of gold around his neck, he held his own.

Murdock, while agile and limber, seemed to have difficulty focusing. He would start talking to the squirrels or playing forest ranger.

And Hannibal took the rear on purpose. That way he could ensure that Murdock didn't get too lost in a fantasy or that nobody tried to slack.

Face had just reached the top of a small tree lined hill when he felt the bullet slice through his flesh. Stunned he fell to the ground and rolled down the other side of the hill.

"What the hell!" he muttered, clutching his injured shoulder. Blood was freely seeping through his hand, but at least it had gone straight through.

He was frantically looking around for the shooter when he heard a voice behind him yell out, "You okay, mister? Oh my God...I'm so sorry!" Still lying on the ground, he turned his head to see a panicked looking teenager came running down the hill. "I was hunting duck...I saw something run by me and just assumed...how bad you hurt?"

Face could see that the young man was on the verge of tears. "I'll be okay. Help me up, would ya?"

"My dad is gonna kill me!"

Face had no intention of waiting around for his dad and heaven knows who else to arrive. He was going to finish the course ...even if he had to do so a few pints short of the red stuff. Plus, he couldn't take a risk of the team being recognized.

"Listen, it was just an accident," he smiled reassuringly. "I have some friends I'm meeting up with. Why don't you head back and meet your father...I'll be fine."

"You sure, mister?" the shooter asked, looking very relieved.

"Yes, but next time just watch what you're shooting, okay?"

"You got it...I sure will!" he beamed and then took off.

Face knew the guys couldn't be far behind and that he needed to move. He quickly ripped the sleeve off of his shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound. 'Another shirt bites the dust,' he thought, as he took off running. He was counting on adrenaline to get him through. That and the thought of having to explain to the guys how he managed to get shot by a teenage kid in the middle of nowhere on a routine training excursion. It would look much better if he did it from the finish line.

Luckily, he was more than two-thirds of the way done when he had been shot and the rest of the trail was pretty flat. That is until the very last few yards. Normally Hannibal liked to end things with a special treat, so it wasn't a shock when he encountered a brook he would have to cross in order to reach the end. He had two options: swing from branch to branch or wade through the cold, murky water. Normally it would have been a no brainer, but with his throbbing arm he knew it would never support his weight.

"Oh, yuck!" he groaned as he made his way through the waist high swamp. When he reached the other side he crawled out and, too tired to stand up, continued crawling over to a large rock. He leaned up against the rock and closed his  
>eyes. "I did it," he sighed wearily.<p>

B.A. was the next to make it back. Face watched him swinging across the branches like some kind of comic book superhero; perhaps "Mohawk Man" he thought with a smile. He tried to sit up a little straighter and look a little less fatigued.

He must have failed as B.A. came jogging over looking alarmed. "Hey Faceman, you know you're wet…and you bleedin'?"

"Um...yeah...I noticed."

"What happened?"

"I was shot," he replied nonchalantly, trying to downplay as if it was a common occurrence. Unfortunately, he had been shot enough times in his life, that it really wasn't that out of the ordinary.

"You was shot?" B.A. exclaimed. Noticing that Murdock and Hannibal were just across the brook he yelled out, "Hurry up, you two…Faceman been shot!"

'Here we go,' thought Face. 'This oughtta go over real well.'

"I must have heard you wrong, big guy," Murdock said as he made his way toward the duo. "I could have sworn you said that Face had been shot." He then glanced down and noticed the blood stain on Face's bandaged arm and exclaimed, "Face, you're bleeding!"

"Um, so I've been told. It's just a scratch."

"How in the world did you manage to get shot out here?" Hannibal asked, still trying to catch his breath.

"Some teenage kid thought I was a duck," Face said lowering his eyes at how ridiculous it sounded. When nobody said anything in return, he lifted his gaze to see three men trying very hard not to lapse into hysterics. B.A. was the first to lose the battle, but his high-pitched giggle was enough to set the others off as well.

"Um…hello…man bleeding here!" Face tried not to let them get to him; if he wasn't the injured party, he would probably find it amusing as well. But then Hannibal went too far when he did one of his famous duck calls.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Colonel," Murdock teased, "we don't want Face to be used as target practice again."

"Yeah man," B.A. added, "We been takin' care of Faceman enough lately!"

"Now wait just one minute!" Face protested.

"You have to admit it Face, you've had quite a," Hannibal hesitated, trying to figure out the right word to use, "messy month."

"Well, I'm sorry that you all find me to be such a burden!" Face stood up quickly intending to storm off, but instead stumbled forward as spots danced in front of his eyes. B.A. reached out and grabbed his good arm to steady him, but as soon as his vision cleared, Face shook him off. "I'll meet you back at the van," he mumbled as he started walking away.

Hannibal looked over at Murdock and B.A. and shrugged his shoulders. He cocked his head in Face's direction indicating that they should start following him. They made the short trek back to the van in silence not wanting to say anything to upset their friend anymore than they already had. They knew that none of this was Face's fault; it was a stretch of bad luck. But they also knew how sensitive Face could be and how easy it was for him to place the blame on himself.

Hannibal ordered Face to stay in the van while Murdock and B.A. loaded the van with their gear.

"Let me take a look at your arm, Face." Face didn't object and stayed quiet while Hannibal unwrapped his makeshift bandage. "It's a bit more than a scratch...it needs to be cleaned and stitched."

Again Face didn't object; he just nodded his head. Hannibal went to the back of the van to get the med kit. Face wasn't talking, and that had Hannibal worried. 'Damn, we should have known better than to tease Face after all he's been through lately,' he thought.

"This is gonna hurt, kid. You sure you don't want me to give you something for the pain?"

Face shook his head 'no'. The last thing he needed was some drugs to make him nauseous inside of B.A.'s van. He turned his head away as Hannibal poured some peroxide onto a cloth and began cleaning. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. Face didn't make a sound through the entire procedure, but was shaking so badly by the time the last of the stitches were being made that Hannibal had to stop.

"You doing okay, kid?"

Once more, Face used his head to do his talking and just nodded. It took every ounce of strength he had left to stay still while Hannibal finished the job. Face was sweating and out of breath as Hannibal packed the med kit away and the other guys took their seats. They made small talk most of the way back, except for Face who said nothing. It wasn't until they pulled up to Face's apartment, that he took his eyes away from the window.

"You've all looked after me enough lately. I think I can manage to walk the few feet from the van to my door." Face tried to keep the tone lighthearted, but the hurt in his voice came through loud and clear.

"You sure you don't want me to help you in, man?" B.A. asked, seriously regretting the statement he made earlier.

Face struggled to open the van door with his uninjured left arm. "No. Thanks, but really, I can manage." 'That is, if I can get this darn door open,' he thought.

Finally, he was able to slide the door open and slowly stepped out of the van. His legs felt shaky and he just hoped that they would carry him to his destination. That destination being any soft horizontal surface where he could lay still and hopefully sleep through the pain.

"Cheer up, Facey. Remember, all bad things come in threes. You've been mugged, poisoned by your food, and shot. I'd say your safe now!" Murdock joked with a wide grin.

Face returned the grin, but it was forced. He wasn't sure he had ever really felt safe before...and something told him he was far from it now.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Stalking Face

Rating: PG 13

Summary: A nemesis from the past comes back for a little revenge.

Warning: Spoilers for The Bell's of St. Mary's. And perhaps a bit corny and unrealistic at times…just the way I like it! :)

"Damnit," Face yelled in frustration as he picked up the phone again to hear nothing but silence.

He slammed the receiver down and winced at the pain in his healing shoulder. It had been a couple of days since the team dropped him off and he hadn't been able to get any rest. The phantom phone calls would come at random times throughout the day and would only pick up in frequency during the nights. At first he figured that some kids were just having some fun and messing with him, but now he wasn't so sure.

Face was beyond tired and his arm still hurt like hell. He thought about calling one of the guys, but was still licking his wounds from the training...literally and figuratively. He knew they were only joking with him, but as with most jokes, there was usually a grain of truth behind them. They had each called him multiple times to make sure he was okay, but he just didn't feel like being around anybody right now.

He just wanted to sleep. But every time would lie down, the phone would ring...it was as if it could sense his head hitting the pillow and it was starting to unnerve him.

He wanted to take the phone off the hook. Actually, he wanted to throw the phone out the window. Neither was an option, however, as the team had to be able to contact him at all times and vice versa. Face had been lying on his couch and was just about to drift off when the phone rang again.

"Hello," he grumbled expecting to hear the same thing he had been hearing all of the other times he had picked up the phone…nothing. Instead he heard heavy breathing on the other end.

"Who is this?" he demanded.

The heavy breathing continued.

"Who is this?" he asked again, his frustration rising.

The breathing stopped.

"What do you want?"

"I have a message for you Lieutenant Peck," a distorted voice said. "Your shoulder bleeds red, I bet you feel blue; you can't see me, but I'm looking at you."

Face felt his heart start to beat a little faster. He stood up and began pacing the floor; surely the voice was bluffing. "Listen you sick S.O.B., I've had just about enough of this!" Mustering up all the false bravado he could, he spat out, "Why don't you just show yourself?"

"All in good time. All in good time...and time is something you are running out of."

There was a click and the line went dead. That was the last straw for Face; he was officially scared. He picked up the phone and with shaking hands began dialing.

"C'mon, pick up Hannibal," he pleaded into the receiver as the phone rang and rang. 'Where is the Aquamaniac when I need him?' he thought bitterly.

Finally, he heard somebody pick up.

"Hannibal," he burst out, before the colonel even had a chance to answer.

Hannibal could hear the urgency in Face's voice. "What's up, Face?"

"Hannibal, somebody is after me."

"Somebody is after all of us, Face...his name is Decker."

"No! I mean, somebody else is after me. I think I'm being followed."

"Are you feeling okay, kid? You sure you haven't developed an infection from that gunshot wound of yours…maybe you're delirious?" he said half-jokingly.

"Yes...I mean no. I mean I'm still getting those phone calls." Face had told him about the calls the other day, but Hannibal just laughed and said that it was probably an ex-girlfriend messing with him. Face, already feeling insecure, dropped it and decided that whatever the situation was, he could handle it himself.

Face was talking quickly and almost rambling; Hannibal couldn't remember the last time he had sounded so spooked.

"Take a deep breath, Lieutenant," Hannibal ordered, hoping that by using his rank it would calm him down and make him focus. "I'll leave the set now head over to your place right away. I'll have B.A. spring Murdock and meet us there."

"I can't stay here, Colonel..." Face began but was cut off.

"You also shouldn't be driving with that shoulder."

"Forget my shoulder, Hannibal! I have a bunch of other body parts I'm worried about as well. I'm getting out of here now."

Hannibal could hear the determination in his voice and knew better than to argue. "Okay, why don't you come straight here and pick me up? From there we'll meet up with B.A. and Murdock."

"Thanks, Hannibal."

"Sure, kid. See you in a bit." Hannibal tried to sound calm, even though he too was starting to get worried. Part of Hannibal was hoping that Face really was out of his mind and that he had dreamt the whole thing up in a feverish state.

But if what Face was saying was true, he was in a great deal of danger and right now he was also very alone. 

_"I'm so close to the end...I can almost taste it! _

_But I mustn't get ahead of myself...it's time for the grand finale! _

_Revenge will be mine! _

_The A-Team will be mine!" _

Face kept one eye on the road and one on the four-door black sedan that had been following him since he pulled onto the highway. The tinted windows prevented him from getting a look at who was inside, but whoever was driving was beginning to get more aggressive and was practically bumper to bumper with the Vette.

Face pushed down on the gas pedal and jerked the wheel to the right, cursing at the strain on his shoulder. He took a quick look at his rearview mirror, said a silent prayer of thanks for the light traffic, and then slammed on the breaks. Face watched as his assailant sped by and then pulled all the way over and got off at the next exit.

Face fumbled to dial his phone with his right hand while he kept driving with his left, but he couldn't get a good grip on it. The phone slipped out of his hand and landed on the passenger seat. He glanced down quickly and then did a double take as he saw that it was smeared with blood. Blood was dripping from his shoulder, down his arm and onto his hand. He wiped his hand onto his khaki pants, not noticing the stains left behind. Picking up the phone he dialed Hannibal's number and pulled back onto the road.

This time Hannibal was much quicker to answer.

"Hannibal, I was followed. I managed to duck them...but they can't be far behind."

"Where are you?"

"About 15 minutes away...I sure hope you have a plan."

"Just keep driving...you have to try to outrun them."

"That's it? That's your plan? Geez...I wish B.A. were driving!" Face heard the shots before he saw the car; it seemed to come out of nowhere. "Damn! Here they come!"

"Just focus, kid. You can do this!" Hannibal encouraged.

Face felt the Vette shake as one of his rear tires were hit. He dropped the phone and gripped the wheel tighter. The next shot blew out the other one and sent him careening off the side of the road and toward some trees. He slammed on the breaks seconds before he felt the impact. The last thing he remembered was hearing Hannibal's voice yelling his name before he passed out.

"Face! Face! Can you hear me?" Hannibal yelled. He had heard the crash and felt helpless. He held onto the phone tightly...it was his only connection to Face. "C'mon Face! Answer me!" he pleaded. Hannibal heard muffled voices growing louder.

A distorted voice came across the receiver. "If you want to see your Lieutenant ever again, go to his place and await further instruction."

Then there was a click and the line went dead. 


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Stalking Face

Rating: PG 13

Summary: A nemesis from the past comes back for a little revenge.

Warning: Spoilers for The Bell's of St. Mary's. And perhaps a bit corny and unrealistic at times…just the way I like it! :)

_Thanks for all the reviews…I am having trouble responding to them…my computer won't let me! Hope you keep reading! _

Hannibal splashed some water on his face and leaned over the sink feeling sick. He was also angry at himself.

"Face tells me he's was getting hang-up phone calls and what do I do? I blame it on a girl," Hannibal chastised his own reflection in the mirror. "And now Face is God knows where with God knows who and in God knows what condition. I'll never forgive myself if..."

"Hannibal!" Murdock yelled, bursting in the front door of Face's apartment. "You've gotta see this!"

Hannibal took a moment to compose himself before opening the bathroom door. He was nearly run over by Murdock who was right on the other side.

"Took you guys long enough," Hannibal barked.

"Sorry Colonel. I had to break myself out. We didn't want to take any chances. B.A. sticks out like a…like a…"

B.A. came up right up behind Murdock. "Like a what, fool?"

Murdock took a giant step closer to Hannibal and replied, "Like a great-big-cute-cuddly-puppy-dog."

B.A. grunted in satisfaction at the answer. "Did you show him yet?"

"Show me what?"

Murdock handed Hannibal a photograph as B.A. explained, "It was taped to the outside of the front door."

Hannibal's heart sank as he looked at the picture. He pushed his way out of the bathroom and sat down heavily on the bed.

"Son of a…" he whispered. The picture was of a dazed looking Face, tied to a chair. There was blood running down the side of his face and blood stains on shoulder of his unbuttoned white shirt. But the thing that stood out the most was the blue paint across his bare chest.

Hannibal knew right away who was responsible. "Westerland…Zeke Westerland."

"That name rings a bell," Murdock said.

"Ain't no bells ringin'…that's just the wind blowin' round your empty head."

"Bell…bell…The Bells!" Murdock exclaimed as it hit him.

"And that Westerland dude was the one messin' with them pretty singin' ladies."

"Bingo! That reclusive peanut mogul was terrorizing them in order to enforce an unfair record deal, "Hannibal recounted. "That is, until we got involved."

"How can you be sure it's Westerland, Hannibal? He isn't the only bad guy we've ticked off over the years."

"The blue spray paint on Face's chest," Hannibal explained. "I sprayed him with blue spray paint."

"Yeah, you was on the jazz, man," B.A. shook his head. "You was on the jazz."

"But why did he just go after Face? Murdock asked.

Hannibal shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "Beats me. Who knows what goes through a crazy person's mind?"

B.A. looked at Murdock and opened his mouth to speak, but Murdock cut him off. "Don't even go there, big guy.

"You're right, fool...too easy. What we gonna do now Hannibal?"

"We wait," Hannibal sighed.

"We can't just sit here and do nothing, Colonel...he has Face!"

"I don't like it any better than you do, Murdock. But we don't know where he is and we don't know what he wants. Those are two very big problems."

"If Faceman gets hurt, you can add one problem to that list...pullin' me off of that Westerland fool!"

"You'll have to stand in line behind me, Sergeant"

Face woke up and found himself tied to a chair in what appeared to be an old wine cellar.

'Too bad my hands are tied behind my back,' he thought, 'I could really use a drink right about now.' He looked down startled at what he saw; blue paint on his exposed chest and red blood seeping onto his white shirt from the reopened gunshot wound.

"Red, white and blue...can't accuse me of not being patriotic," he joked out loud. He jumped as he heard laughter from behind him.

Westerland walked around so Face could see him. "Surprised to see me, Lieutenant?" he asked, tossing a peanut into his mouth.

"Nothing surprises me, anymore. Not even the sight of a psychopath like you. I see you're still as nuts as ever, Zeke" Face spat back referring to the bag of peanuts he held in his hand. "I can call you Zeke, right?"

"You can call me whatever you like," Westerland replied tossing a peanut shell at Face's feet. "You see, words can't hurt me. But I am going to hurt you...and I won't be using words."

"What are you going to do...shell me to death?" Face ground his heel into the shell. "Tell me, Zeke...when did you get out of the slammer?"

"They say money can't buy you happiness...but it sure can buy you freedom. And, ironically, that did make me rather happy. Yes, very happy indeed."

"Well, I have to give you credit on one thing. At least you stopped picking on innocent women. But I have to wonder why you decided to move onto me?"

"It was a no brainer, my friend…"

"Let's get one thing straight, Zeke," Face interrupted. "I'm certainly not your friend."

"As I was saying, it was a no brainer. Who I'm really after is Smith. And it's obvious that Smith cares for you a great deal; like a father would a son. I want to hurt Smith, and the best way to go about that is by hurting his boy first. Capturing the entire A-Team will just be the icing on the cake."

"Fruitcake might be an appropriate choice," Face mocked.

"Go ahead, Peck. Make all your little jokes. Let's see how much you are laughing by the time I get through with you," Westerland said while walking toward the door. "I'd love to stay and chat a while longer. However, I'm a very busy man."

He was half-way out of the room when he turned and said, "By the way, my daughter Rhonda sends her regards. As does my grandson...I believe you met him on a hunting trip recently."

Face tried to hide his surprise and instead planted a smile on his face. "I guess the nuts don't fall far from the tree." It was all starting to make sense now. "And just where do my muggers fit on your family tree?"

Westerland didn't answer the question but smirked knowingly and said, "You disappointed me, Lieutenant. I thought you would have put things together much quicker."

"Sorry, Zeke. But it's not every day I find myself stalked by deranged lunatics." Decker and the Army were persistent, but they didn't even come close to this level of insanity.

"I'd try to get some rest if I were you...you're going to need it."

The door slammed shut leaving Face alone with his thoughts...and his pain. He didn't know what was throbbing more, his head or his shoulder. And although the bleeding had slowed considerably, the wound looked red and swollen. He took a quick inventory of his situation.

'I'm tied up in a concrete room without windows and nobody knows where I am. Oh, and there is a looney-toon hell bent on making me suffer.' Face sighed and muttered , "Well Peck...I'd say you're screwed."


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Stalking Face

Rating: PG 13

Summary: A nemesis from the past comes back for a little revenge.

Warning: Spoilers for The Bell's of St. Mary's. And perhaps a bit corny and unrealistic at times…just the way I like it! :)

_Thanks for the reviews…I still can't respond (sigh), but I read each one! _

They drove in somber silence down the dirt road toward Westerland's estate.

Finally B.A. slammed his palm against the steering wheel.

"Problem, Sergeant?"

"Yeah, I don't like this plan, man. We just gonna go in there and tell him that we don't care what he do wit the Faceman? It ain't right!"

"I agree with, B.A., Colonel. It will destroy Face."

"You two are acting like I mean it. The only thing we have in our favor is the element of surprise. We have to throw Westerland off...and this is the only way I can think of to do it!"

"But you know Face..." Murdock started.

"I _know_ Face would like us to get him out of there."

"What make you think Westerland is gonna go for it."

"It's simple...greed. I'm going to make him an offer his greed won't allow him to refuse."

They pulled up to an iron gate. B.A. rang the buzzer and they waited...and waited.

B.A. was about to ring again when a limousine came down the long, winding driveway.

Before getting out of the van Hannibal said, "Listen guys, if this is going to work, you're going to have to be with me all the way. We have to make this believable." He looked at B.A. who nodded his head and then at Murdock who gave him a thumbs up. "Okay, let's do this for Face. Just follow my lead, and play along. Grab a couple of guns...safeties off."

They stood outside of the van; Hannibal out front, Murdock and B.A. slightly behind him holding their weapons out in clear view.

Westerland got out of the limo similarly flanked by a couple of armed muscle-bound guards.

"Hannibal Smith," he said slowly, enunciating each syllable. "I've been looking forward to this day for quite some time."

"Can't say that I can say the same, Zeke."

"No matter. Now why don't you and your men put down your weapons and I'll take you to Lieutenant Peck."

"Sorry, pal. The weapons stay until we see him."

"Oh, very well. Would you gentleman care to join me in my limousine? But remember, my men will have their eyes on you at all times. If you try anything, you will be shot instantly."

"That goes for you too, sucker!" B.A. warned him taking a step closer.

Murdock grabbed his arm to hold him back and whispered, "Easy, big guy."

"I still don't like this," B.A. muttered under his breath before ducking his head to get into the car.

Face heard the sound of a key in the door and he immediately felt himself tense up. Or at least he could feel the parts of him that hadn't gone numb from lack of circulation. Hannibal came in first, followed by Murdock and B.A. He was so relieved to see them that if Westerland wasn't there, he might have started crying.

But something was wrong...very wrong.

They wouldn't look him in the eye. In fact, they didn't seem concerned for his well being at all...they barely glanced his way.

"Okay Smith, as you can see, your Lieutenant is alive and well."

Face almost laughed out loud. 'He calls this well?'

"So, I noticed the paint job you did on my Lieutenant. How incredibly," Hannibal paused for effect, "unoriginal."

"I wanted to send a message to you and paint was your method of choice last time we met." Westerland narrowed his eyes at Hannibal and sneered, "I wasn't going to use blue…but they just happened to be out of green that day."

B.A. and Murdock looked at each other and rolled their eyes. It wasn't that long ago that Hannibal had made a similar statement.

"Now, if you want to keep Peck alive, I suggest you surrender your weapons and do exactly as I say."

"I don't care what you do with Peck." Hannibal said nonchalantly, even though his stomach was twisting into knots.

"What do you mean, you don't care?"

"Did I stutter?"

Face felt as if he had been punched in the gut. He looked from Hannibal to Murdock to B.A. begging them with his eyes to tell him this was all a joke. But they just stared through him, looking cold and hard.

"Then that begs the question, why are you here, Colonel Smith?"

"Peck and I have a little unfinished business." Hannibal paused to pull a cigar out of his pocket and light it up. "You see, Peck has been in control of all of our money for more than a decade now. Being fugitives for hire can be quite lucrative. And with his business skills and investment prowess, we have managed to become quite wealthy men."

"And just what does this have to do with me?"

"I have a little business proposition for you, Zeke. All we want is our money...we'll give you Peck's share and you can keep him and do whatever you would like with him."

"I seem to remember you telling me that you couldn't be bought...why the sudden change?"

"I _can't_ be bought," Hannibal took a drag of his cigar. "That is unless I want to be."

"And now you want to be?"

"I figure I have to choose between the money and Peck...I choose the money. It's the only reason we have kept him around all these years."

"Tell me why I shouldn't just take you all _and_ the money?"

"Because, before you could kill all three of us, you would be dead. My way, nobody has to die. I get what I want…and you get what you want."

"I'm already a very rich man, Smith."

"I seem to remember you telling me that you were a collector. Would not a member of the A-Team along with a few million of the Piasters we stole from the Bank of Hanoi be a wonderful addition to your collection?"

Face felt like he was in the middle of a dream; make that a very bad nightmare. What was Hannibal talking about? While it was true that he took care of the team's money, they were far from rich! And the last time he had seen any Vietnamese currency was in Vietnam over a decade ago. His mind was racing along with his heart. He wanted to speak...to protest...but there were no words. For one of the first times, Face was shocked into silence.

Westerland's eyes lit up at the possibilities of what Hannibal was suggesting. "Interesting…very interesting indeed." He turned his attention to Murdock and B.A. who remained positioned behind their Colonel. "And you two gentleman feel the same way?"

B.A. cleared his throat; it felt so dry. "Yeah," he said gruffly, "I can't stand the Yuppie…don't care whatcha' do to him." 'But if you hurt him anymore, you ain't gonna want to know what I'm gonna do to you,' he thought.

"Never did like the creep," Murdock asserted. 'I mean that about you, Zeke…not Face,' he screamed on the inside.

Westerland turned to look at a shell-shocked Face. "Well, well, well," he taunted, "didn't know your friends felt this way about you, did you?" Face didn't respond. Instead he just looked down trying to hide the emotions he didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing. "What's the matter, Lieutenant? Cat got your tongue?"

Face looked up and snarled, "Go to hell." He looked at his teammates and added, "all of you."

'Hell couldn't be any worse than this, kid.' Hannibal thought. "So what's it going to be, Zeke?"

"I'll do it your way, Smith. But," he waved a finger in the air, "under one condition. I need you to prove it."

"Prove what, sucker?" B.A. demanded. He was growing tired of this game. For B.A., actions always spoke louder than words. And if somebody didn't take some action soon, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold himself back. He'd let his fists do the talking.

"You say that you don't care what happens to your Lieutenant…prove it," he challenged.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Stalking Face

Rating: PG 13

Summary: A nemesis from the past comes back for a little revenge.

Warning: Spoilers for The Bell's of St. Mary's. And perhaps a bit corny and unrealistic at times…just the way I like it! :)

_Thanks for the reviews! I know I tend to leave you hanging…but I can't seem to resist a cliffhanger! _

"Prove it?" Hannibal asked.

"Did I stutter?" Westerland replied, using the Colonel's earlier phrase.

"Prove it, how? We need him alive to get us the money."

"I didn't say you had to kill him…yet. That I will get to in good time. I would just like you to put on a little show for me…you know, whet my appetite."

Hannibal knew he had to take control of the situation and not let Westerland decide the form of "entertainment" he would like to see. He sauntered over to Face and circled around him. "I'll need him standing…B.A. and Murdock can hold him for me." He looked at Westerland waiting for his approval and was rewarded with a nod of the mad man's head.

Murdock and B.A. got to work untying Face's bonds. The immediate relief of being freed was quickly replaced with the agony of his circulation returning. His whole body felt as if it were on fire.

"Stand up," Hannibal ordered, standing directly in front Face; his back to Westerland and his two goons.

Face just glared back at his colonel and made no attempt to move. Even if had tried to stand, he doubted his legs would support him. Murdock and B.A. yanked him up by his armpits and held him upright as the room started to spin around him.

Face's eyes were glassy and unfocused; his skin, shiny from sweat, was a pale and sickly gray color. Hannibal could see that Face looked as if he was going to pass out at any moment. He wished he would so he wouldn't have to experience what was to come next. Hannibal Looked at Murdock and B.A. and silently mouthed, "we go on three."

Face didn't struggle as he stood there supported by what he had thought were two of his best friends, and waiting to get beaten on by the man he looked up to like a father. He used what little energy he had left to lift his head and look Hannibal in the eye.

"Why?" he rasped out.

'Because I love you, kid," Hannibal thought. Instead of answering Face's question out loud, he mouthed "one" and delivered a blow to his midsection.

Face doubled over in pain, but was immediately pulled upright by Murdock and B.A. He was gasping to take in the air that Hannibal had just forced out of him. He again lifted his head, but this time his eyes were vacant.

Hannibal felt a shiver go down his spine as he recognized the look in Face's eyes. He hadn't seen it since the camps in Nam. They were all beaten on a regular basis, but Face had been tortured unmercifully for weeks on end. One day when he was thrown back into their cell, his eyes were blank and expressionless; they were sure he had been broken. He had retreated so far inside of himself to escape the pain that it would take months for him to start opening up again. A small part of him never would.

Feeling Westerland's eyes on his back, he mouthed "two" and delivered an uppercut under Face's chin, snapping his head back. It momentarily rolled to one side, but again Face slowly raised it back up.

Westerland and his men were fixated on the show in front of them. They were so distracted that they had relaxed their hold on the weapons. Seeing this, B.A. gave Hannibal a slight nod indicating that it was time.

Hannibal leaned back and slammed Face with a hook to the side of the head.

"Three!"

Murdock and B.A. dropped their hold on Face and he crumpled to the floor in a heap. They immediately lunged at the bodyguards while Hannibal spun on his heels and ran straight for Westerland and tackled him to the ground.

Within a matter of minutes it was all over.

"I'll get you for this, Smith!" Westerland seethed from the ground where he and his battered men were nursing their wounds under the watchful eye of B.A.

"I doubt that, Zeke. The only thing you'll be getting is a permanent spot in hell. And if you ever mess with one of my boys again, I'll personally send you there! Tie these clowns up, B.A." Hannibal said as he made his way over to where Murdock was already kneeling next to the unconscious Face.

"He's out cold, Hannibal." Murdock had one hand on the side of Face's neck. "But his pulse is strong and steady."

Hannibal crouched down next to Face, but didn't say anything.

"You okay, Colonel?" Murdock asked, noticing the slight tremble in Hannibal's hands.

"No," he replied lost in his own thoughts. "No, I don't think I am."

He was brought back to reality by B.A. who came over and put a hand on his shoulder. "We gotta get outta here man before somebody figures out what happened."

"Okay, we'll take the limo outside to the van. Murdock, take point. B.A., you get the rear." Drawing extra strength from his anger and guilt, Hannibal was already lifting up the injured man, "I'll carry Face. Let's move out."


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Stalking Face

Rating: PG 13

Summary: A nemesis from the past comes back for a little revenge.

Warning: Spoilers for The Bell's of St. Mary's. And perhaps a bit corny and unrealistic at times…just the way I like it! :)

_Thanks for reading and reviewing…much appreciated!_

Face lay in the back of the van blissfully unaware of what was going on around him. They had made it from the limo to the van without incident, but now found themselves being shot at from all directions as B.A. floored the vehicle toward the front gate.

"Hannibal, the gate's closed and I don't think we can crash it," B.A. yelled back at the colonel who was hanging half-way out the back door with a shot-gun.

"Murdock!" Hannibal yelled.

"I'm on it!" Murdock replied, aiming his gun out the passenger side window and shooting for the control box. There was a small blast as he hit his target and the gate slowly began to open.

"Nice, Murdock!"

"C'mon…c'mon…c'mon." B.A. willed the iron bars to move faster. "Hold on tight!" Sparks flew as metal scraped against metal and the van just barely passed through the gates.

"Keep driving, B.A. I want to make sure we aren't followed before we stop anywhere." Hannibal picked up the phone from the console. "In the meantime, a quick call to the local police should keep ol' Zeke busy for a while. I bet they'll be real interested in why his place is shot up like the set of an old western."

After making the call, Hannibal joined Murdock in tending to Face, who was shifting his head from side to side and moaning softly.

"I think he's starting to come around, Hannibal," Murdock said. "Nothing appears broken. His shoulder will need some attention, but it doesn't look too bad."

It wasn't Face's injuries that had Hannibal worried; cuts and bruises would heal. This time Face's heart and soul had sustained the most damage…and the healing process could take much longer. Hannibal grabbed Face's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. While he desperately wanted him to wake up, he was terrified of dealing with the aftermath of that afternoon.

Face felt somebody holding his hand and heard muffled voices from above him. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked to try to get them to focus.

"That's it, Face...open those eyes," Hannibal encouraged.

Face's eyes followed the voice. "Why, so you can finish me off?" he said, pulling his hand away. The cold, hard look was back and though his voice was weak, the tone was angry.

"Face...kid...we had no choice. We didn't mean any of it."

"You know we would never try to hurt you, buddy," Murdock pleaded.

His head was telling him not to trust them, but his heart was torn. Face looked from Hannibal to Murdock and then shut his eyes tightly wanting it all to go away. "Just leave me alone," he pleaded. "Please."

B.A. pulled the van over to the side of the road positive that they were no longer being pursued. He had been listening to what was going on behind him and he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't just keep driving when one of his little brothers was hurting so badly. He got out of the van and took a deep breath. Opening up the double doors to the back of the van he said to himself, "Don't be such a wimp, Baracus...just tell Faceman what you're feelin'."

Face's eyes remained closed though B.A. could tell he was still awake by the stiffness of his body. "Now listen Faceman, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. We your family, man...and it tore us up to do you like that." He could see Face starting to tremble slightly. "We love you...and don't you forget it."

Face's eyes popped open when B.A. said that they loved him; he had never said that before. His detached look was replaced with one of confusion.

"I...but you said...but I...I really...I thought you hated me." Face started to breathe heavily as uncontrollable tears fell down his cheeks. He couldn't catch his breath as the events of the past few weeks came crashing down on him all at once.

"It…hurt…so…much," he gasped out. "Don't…wanna…be…alone."

"It's all going to be okay now, kid," Hannibal said while reaching into the med kit. "Don't talk…try to slow your breathing. I'm just going to give you something to help you relax." He injected Face in the arm with the sedative and then reached for Face's hand again, relieved that this time he didn't pull away.

'At least it's a start,' Hannibal thought.

Face's breathing began to slow and his eyelids began to droop. "Murdock," he slurred sleepily, "you were wrong."

"Dude ain't never been right," B.A. joked.

"Wrong about what, Facey?"

"Bad things don't always happen in threes, do they?"

"I guess not, Muchacho," he chuckled. "Why don't you get some rest and we'll get you home."

"Home," Face muttered dreamily, and then lost consciousness.

"You know B.A., that was just be-yoo-tee-ful!" Murdock gushed.

"Shut-up fool!" B.A. replied, obviously embarrassed.

"He's right, B.A. I think Face needed to hear that," Hannibal said with a heartfelt grin. "And I don't think he'll ever forget it."

"Yeah, well, I meant it. And the same goes for the two of you. But I ain't gonna make a habit of sayin' it," he said gruffly.

"You love me…you really love me!" Murdock exclaimed throwing his arms around B.A.

"Get off me you crazy fool! Now can we please quit the jibber-jabber and get outta here?"

"Sounds like a plan, B.A. And you know just how much I love it when a plan comes together!"

**(one part to go…)**


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Stalking Face

Rating: PG 13

Summary: A nemesis from the past comes back for a little revenge.

Warning: Spoilers for The Bell's of St. Mary's. And perhaps a bit corny and unrealistic at times…just the way I like it! :)

_Warning…a bit of a cheesy ending ahead! Thanks all for reading and responding! _

Epilogue

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this. You sure it gonna help Faceman?"

Hannibal sighed, "I don't know B.A. I just don't know."

"I'll try anything at this point," Murdock added. "I can't stand seeing him like this anymore."

It had been almost two weeks since Westerland had kidnapped Face. And though Westerland was in jail and his physical wounds were healing, his mental state was declining.

He tried to hide it all behind a smile, but they knew it was just an act. They heard his screams in the middle of the night and saw the bags under his eyes the next morning. They noticed how he would flinch when one of them got too close to him. And they saw the sadness in his eyes when he thought they weren't watching him.

Face sat by the pool outside his latest scammed house and stared at the water. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't hear them come up behind him even though Murdock had called his name twice.

"Face," Murdock said a third time as they made their way poolside.

Face jumped up and looked wildly around him. But then his world began to go from colored to white and he fell backwards onto the recliner.

"Face!" the trio exclaimed rushing forward.

Hannibal knelt down by his lieutenant and gently held onto his wrists so he wouldn't lash out. "Face, can you hear me?"

Hannibal's voice brought him back to awareness and he nodded slowly. Opening his eyes to see Hannibal above him he instinctively pulled his arms away and winced as he jarred his injured shoulder.

"Are you okay, kid?" Hannibal asked trying to disguise how much it hurt to have Face recoil from his touch.

Face nodded again, but he was far from okay. "Sorry, guys," he tried to smile. "I must have stood up to fast." He could see the disappointment in Hannibal's eyes and could feel the tension between him and the rest of the team. He couldn't understand why he was still having this reaction to his friends. Tears of frustration and embarrassment welled up in his eyes and he wiped them away with a trembling hand.

Murdock and B.A. looked at the ground shifting uncomfortably while Hannibal stood frozen and staring at Face. His youngest man lay before him looking so lost and alone. He knew he should say something, but the words wouldn't come.

It was Face who finally broke the silence by stuttering, "I'm…I'm sorry. Don't know…what's wrong…wrong with me."

"Ain't nothin' wrong with you, Faceman," B.A. said in his softest voice, the one he reserved for the kids at the center.

"You have every right to your feelings," Murdock added. "We understand."

"But…but I don't. I know why you did what you did. You had no choice."

Hannibal saw his opportunity and knelt down next to Face once again. "You're right, we had no choice. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. God, kid…when I had to hit you that way…" Hannibal's voice cracked and he had to stop and clear his throat. "When I had to hit you, it just about broke me in two."

"Wasn't your fault, colonel."

"I should have listened to you earlier…I could have stopped this from happening."

"No…not true." Face shook his head vehemently then regretted it as it made him feel lightheaded. He let out a low moan and closed his eyes.

"What's wrong, Face?" Murdock asked.

"Kinda dizzy," Face slurred and then started to fall to the side.

Hannibal jumped to his feet and caught Face. He sat down on the edge of the recliner and pulled Face close to him. "I gotcha, kid." Hannibal once again felt Face tense, but this time he wasn't about to let go. "It's okay, Face. I'm not going to hurt you, son."

"I know…it's just…I…I…"

Murdock took over for the struggling Face. "It's just that your heart knows that we would never hurt you, but it's going to take a little time for the rest of you to figure that out."

Face visibly relaxed at Murdock's words; he had been able to make sense of what had seemed senseless. He allowed himself to lean against Hannibal completely and felt the wall he had built up begin to crumble.

"I gotta hand it to ya, crazy man," B.A. smiled, "sometimes you ain't so crazy."

"That's just what Billy was telling me the other day."

"Spoke too soon," B.A. muttered.

Face remained in Hannibal's arms until he no longer felt as if he was going to pass out or, worse yet, burst into tears. Hannibal helped him to a standing position before Murdock handed him a brown paper bag.

"We have a little surprise for you."

Face peered inside the bag and chuckled. Hannibal, Murdock and B.A. looked at each other and smiled; maybe this would work after all.

"You don't want me to do what I think you want me to do…do you?"

"That was quite a tongue twister there, Facey."

"Go for it, Lieutenant. Consider it payback."

"You sure?" Face asked.

"You better hurry it up, Faceman, before I change my mind," B.A. grumbled.

By now Face was smiling. And it was his real smile that lit up his face and made his eyes twinkle. He picked up the can and aimed it at B.A.

"You better watch out for my gold, sucker," B.A. threatened though a smile played on his lips. It was good to see Face looking happy again.

"One," Face said as he pressed down on the nozzle and painted B.A. blue. Below the gold, of course.

"Two," he said spraying Murdock next.

"Gee, thanks Face. I always did want to be a Smurf!"

B.A. giggled, "Yeah…you can be Crazy Smurf."

Face laughed before turning the can on Hannibal.

"I guess it would do me no good to order you to surrender your weapon," Hannibal joked. Face shook his head no and Hannibal pulled out a cigar. "Oh well, At least let me have a last cigar!"

"Three!" Face exclaimed, happily letting the paint fly.

"My cigar," Hannibal lamented. "You painted my cigar!"

Face held the spray can up to his lips and blew on it as if it were a smoking gun.

B.A. shook his head and groaned, "Faceman on the jazz…he on the jazz."

Face pointed at his friends and laughed freely for the first time in weeks. "And it feels really good!"

The End


End file.
